


here's to another bad decision (here's to you)

by arexnna



Series: lost stars [27]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst?, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 18:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6436228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arexnna/pseuds/arexnna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“today was the first family gathering I’ve been to since we broke up and my little cousin that absolutely adored you asked where you were and I had to lock myself in the bathroom and sit in the tub for a half an hour and look through a folder on my phone of pictures I took of you to feel okay again” au</p>
            </blockquote>





	here's to another bad decision (here's to you)

_part ii to_ __**[exes asked each other incredibly honest questions and things got too real](http://captainkillianhjones.tumblr.com/post/128697555455/exes-asked-each-other-incredibly-honest-questions) ** _ _

-/-

Emma’s likes to categorise. She has specific drawers for wires, for stationary, for different types of papers, for anything really. Everything should be able to fall under a label, able to fit into a box. She’s become so used to categorizing that she’s even done it for life events.

Here’s where it gets a little messy. There’s the _foster group days_ , where there aren’t many memories but still the most memorable of her childhood, if not in her life. Being thrown around between group home to group home constantly does that to a person. Next, would be filed under _Ingrid,_ when her knight in shining armour isn’t a man on a white horse, but a childless mother with hair as blonde as hers and arms as wide as it gets. Then there are the Dark Ages, or as they’re more commonly known: _The Neal era_. Which was when she alienated basically everyone she knew and loved for an asshole who’d just up and leave when trouble came calling. It’s followed by _post-Neal_ , which lasted far longer than necessary. Who knew getting over your first kiss, first love, first everything would be so hard, huh? _Getting your life together_ would then be the next stage with _College, Graduation,_ and _Work_ as sub headings.

Then it’s a three-part series that’s kind of stuck with her ever since. She should also mention that she’s still kind of _in_ the last part of the series.

Her _pre-Killian_ days actually include the times _while_ she knew him, but _before_ they got together, those _will-they-won’t-they_ couple of months that were actually more of a year. It was the whole dancing around each other with banter and unknown pining and what both parties felt was unrequited feelings, until they realized that there was such a thing called _communication_ and that talking about feelings sometimes helps people get together apparently.

Which then leads them to _the_ _Killian years_ , of which were two years that she was undoubtedly genuinely _happy_ for the first time in a long time. These years included the rocky start where she kept trying to run and he kept having to chase her, the smoother road ahead when she’d finally gotten a hang of waking up next to the same person most mornings, as well as the Great Migration where they’d actually moved in together (changing the _most_ mornings to _every_ morning). And then it all comes crashing down when insecurities and fear of _too much_ commitment rises, and this time when she runs, he just isn’t fast enough to catch up to her. And so, the breakup ( _see: post-Killian_ ).

It’s been two and a half years give or take since their breakup and she’s pretty sure she’s still in the _post-Killian_ stage, which she really _doesn’t_ want to be in. It’s not that she wants to forget him or anything, it’s more that she just wants to be able to _try_ to move on. And she could’ve sworn she was _almost_ there just a couple of months ago, but  Ruby just thought it’d be a _great_ idea for her and Killian to sit in front of a camera and talk about how badly she’d fucked up one of the best relationships she’s ever had for it to be put onto YouTube (which, by the way, got over _three_ million views, meaning an approximate _three million_ people had watched her confess that she was a shitty girlfriend to an amazing guy, with comments a mixture of _‘this is soooo sad’_ to _‘holy shit this guy is one of the hottest they’ve had in the series’_ to more of how Killian is a beautiful specimen, and then to how she’s a terrible person who’s definitely at fault – not that she needed to be told) because _why the hell not, right?_ There are _a lot_ of reasons of why the hell not, but what’s done is done, but what’s done has thrown her right back into her ditch of hollowness and emptiness without him.

Seeing him for the first time in almost two years hurt more than she expected, mostly because she’d _almost_ convinced herself that she _was_ getting over him, which she would later find out to be _very_ untrue.

Emma hasn’t seen him since and while their parting words that last time they met was to _stay in touch_ , they’d both known it was just empty words.

 

During _pre-Killian_ she’d already _hated_ family gatherings as it is, and not just an _I don’t like it_ kind of hate, but the _loathe with all my heart_ kind of hate. There were too many prying aunties over how much weight she’s lost or gained, or why she’s dateless, or why she’s not married yet and the likes of it. Then there were the uncles who’d get far too drunk and vomit in one corner of the room, to which the cousins would then argue why it _shouldn’t_ be them to be on cleaning duty.

But once her and Killian had started being serious about each other, she’d actually _wanted_ to bring him to family reunions, to show those aunts how she’d hit the jackpot with him. It was extremely helpful that he actually got along with everyone, _especially_ Ingrid who’s probably the _hardest_ to get through to. It _didn’t_ help how good he was with the kids, with how much her niece and nephews absolutely adored him.

And that’s probably why now, in her _post-Killian_ years, she still hasn’t been able to show face at any one family gathering, not with the kids asking and asking and asking where _Uncle Killian_ is and when he’s coming and if he’s going to bring them toys or not. She simply _can’t_ answer those questions. Aunts asking what happened to the ‘fine boy’ she was dating she can do, but telling those little children that Uncle Killian wouldn’t be coming around anymore – _that_ , she can’t bare.

But it’s Anna and Kris’ five-year anniversary and she _can’t_ miss that, not when she’s missed the last two.

So, here she is, standing outside her aunt’s door, hand ready to knock, bottle of champagne in the other (more for her than it is for the couple) when Elsa beats her to the punch.

“Emma!” she greets, grin wide as she pulls the door open wider and Emma into a hug. “You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Emma says as they pull apart, but they both know those words are just as empty as ‘ _lets stay in touch, yeah?’_

“Come in, come in!” Elsa ushers, inviting her in and closing the door after her. “Look who made it!” she calls, and Emma can’t help the cringe when most of the room turns towards her, some faces more excited than others.

Then there’s a rush of hugs and _Emma!_ (s) and too many questions all at once, but _at the very least,_ none of them have anything to do with why she’s going stag.

She holds onto the champagne because it’s a good bottle and there are kids around and if anything were to happen it’d be such a shame, so safe in her arms is where it should remain.

She’s just managed to catch a break when Ingrid comes out from the kitchen, her face lighting up the moment they catch each other, and in all honesty, this was the one hug she was looking forward to most.

“Hey Mom,” Emma grins, and for a first time since getting here, it’s a genuine smile.

If she thought Elsa’s hug was tight, that’s no comparison to her mother’s. “I’ve missed you so much, dear,” Ingrid mentions as she presses a kiss to her temple.

But then she gets that look on her face that Emma _knows_ means she wants to _talk_ and that’s never _good_ , and when her mother starts leading her towards the kitchen where there’s less people, it pretty much confirms it.

“I warned everyone not to ask about Killian,” her mother mentions, a sad smile playing on her lips.

“And yet you’re asking now.”

But Ingrid just ignores the sass, instead, “I saw your video.”

Which earns a groan from Emma, because _of course_ the moment her mom figures out how to use the internet properly is when a video of her and her ex surfaces on YouTube.

“Elsa sent me the link.”

“Oh _God_ ,” Emma whines, noting in the back of her mind to get her cousin back for this one day.

“If she hadn’t, your brother would’ve.”

“I’m going to kill her anyway.”

But as Emma pulls away, ready to give Elsa an earful, her mother halts her with a hand on her arm. “Do you still love him?” she asks, her voice low and serious, eyes searching Emma’s, and it’s just making her feel like a goddamn teenager all over again, getting life advice from her mommy.

“No.” Her answer comes out faster than she could think it, but perhaps all the convincing she’s tried on herself finally stuck.

It doesn’t – by how foul the word tastes on her tongue, she knows it’s not the truth. But saying _yes_ wouldn’t feel quite right either, she feels. What she feels for him now, it’s on a hazy line between love, longing, missing, regret, you name it – just about everything in the book.

“Okay,” and it’s all she says. With a squeeze of her hand, her mom lets her go. “Go see the kids in the playroom – they’ve missed their Aunt Em,” Ingrid mentions, pressing a kiss to Emma’s forehead before slipping back to the rest.

She wants to ask ‘ _That’s it?’,_ that’s she’s off the hook so easily, that that was the whole interrogation, but she guesses she should take it as a blessing instead of anything else.

-/-

She takes her mom’s advice and goes to see the kids. They’re in the very same playroom that Emma, Elsa, David and Anna grew up playing in all through their childhoods. It’s a walk through nostalgia lane as she makes her way through the hallway towards the little room at the end of the corridor with its door frame marked with their heights in different coloured pencils (Emma’s was red, Elsa’s blue, David’s purple and Anna’s green) and their dates and ages.

The three girls’ were always competing – though Emma and Elsa were more neck in neck than with Anna (which she’d argue was because she’s _younger_ and it’s _not fair_ ) – whereas by the time both Elsa and her hit the age of 13, and David 14, he overtook the three of time by a landslide (cue Emma and Elsa’s turns to reason that it’s because they’re _younger_ and it’s _not fair_ ).

She traces the marks on the frame with her fingertips, and that’s when she notices that the wood feels different, that Elsa and Anna’s dad must’ve laminated it, and she can’t help but grin.

It’s only then that she notices the marks on the opposite side of the door, with Leo’s, Alex’s and Katie’s heights. Both Leo and Katie have grown way too much since the last time she’d seen them, with little Alex trailing far behind.

There are little chatters and giggles that creep through the door, followed by a squeaky _“Don’t pull my hair!”_ when Emma finally decides to go in, finding Katie with her fingers tangled in Leo’s black locks.

“ _Katie_ ,” Emma warns, all three tiny heads turning towards her, large eyes staring, and after two seconds of processing time, there are two six-year olds and a three-year old running at her, overwhelming her with hugs and _‘Aunt Emma!’s_.

“Heya, kiddos,” she smiles at them as she crouches down, pulling the three of them in her arms, nearly falling as they jump right into her.

“We missed ya,” Leo speaks up, his black hair growing out that it’s almost as long as his mother’s pixie cut, and the boy’s missing a front tooth, and _God_ she’s missed way too much.

She spends the next twenty minutes being showed drawings both Katie and Leo’s drawn, and whatever scribbles Alex was showing her.

Then it takes just about twenty-two minutes before Katie cracks.

“I _know_ I’m not supposed to ask – mommy told us _not_ to, she even scolded me and Leo—“

“ _Leo_ and _I_ ,” she corrects.

“She even scolded Leo and I,” Katie amends, “but _why_ isn’t Uncle Killy here yet?”

And _there_ it is. She guesses making sure aunties didn’t bring anything up was far easier than keeping the kids’ mouths shut.

“Um – Uncle Killian and I, we’re not—“

“But he’s coming _right_?” Leo speaks up, his eyes staring up at her and _shit_ , it’s much harder to say _no_ this time.

It isn’t helping that Alex is just repeating _Uncle Killy, Uncle Killy_ over and over, when in reality – the kid probably doesn’t even _remember_ him.

“He—“

 _Knock, knock_ and _saved_ by whoever that is. “Heya guys, there’s cake outside.”

And that effectively distracts the kids, running off to eat their hearts out.

But Emma stays rooted, not even bothered to thank Kris for basically (though unknowing to him) saving her ass from those little interrogators.

“Emma?” he calls out, and she forces herself out of her haze.

Pulling herself up, she walks moves towards him, “I’m okay,” she says, answering the concern on his face.

“You sure?” he asks, brows furrowed and Anna really did good with this one. _Definitely_ much better than the Swedish narcissist she dated right before Kris. “Go take a break in Anna’s old room or something if you’d like,” he suggests, squeezing at her arm.

“Yeah, I think I will,” Emma replies, sending a smile his way. “Just got to make a pit stop somewhere first – come on, let’s get you back to the party.”

-/-

She lingered around the crowd for just over a minute before making her pit stop, then making a beeline for Anna’s – the pit stop being the kitchen to pick up the champagne she’d deposited there before seeing the kids.

Anna’s room is nowhere the same as it was when they were little. Aunt Gerda gave the girls a room makeover when they’d both gotten into college, changing the wall colours from their pinks and purples and blues to darker, plainer and well- more _grown_ colours. The pinks and purples of Anna’s has changed to a richer cream and Elsa’s blues to a plain white walls with a single dark maroon on the wall her bed leans against.

Their beds had gotten upgrades as well, from their single beds to queen sized mattresses, and while it’s great that they had their transformed rooms and all, she misses the cramped beds with its sticker-littered frames and the poster covered walls.

She doesn’t think she can handle too much of change right now, so instead she hides in the bathroom. One thing that didn’t change is that the two rooms are still joined by a mutual bathroom (which _now_ isn’t much of a problem since neither of the girls live here anymore, anyway).

Emma washes her face, rubbing at her forehead, because if she thinks any longer about how much things have changed and how much she can’t do anything about it, she’ll get a headache.

She could practically _smell_ how much Aunt Helga wanted to ask about Killian, since she absolutely _loved_ the man, always claiming that _‘this is the one, he’s the one for Emma’_ and oh how wrong had she been.

She stares in her own eyes through her reflection, seeing the dark circles under them, the tired lines on her face and _God_ , she just wants to wash all of it away.

And since she’s already down the road of bad decisions, the path starting the moment she decided that _yeah_ , doing a video with her ex would be _totally_ fine, she pops the bottle open.

“To bad decisions,” she mutters, raising the bottle up to no one, slipping out of her heels and into the bathtub.

And it takes just about ten minutes, a quarter of the bottle and an ass cramp (the tub isn’t the most comfortable thing to lay in) later when she finally breaks. _Before,_ she’d just go through the pictures she had on her phone whenever she was feeling down, but _after_ she’d watch the video instead – which is likely the dumbest thing she could ever do given that it’s not quite the happiest video on YouTube.

 _‘-you_ hated _me when we first met-‘_

_‘I did not!’_

_‘You_ did _.’_

_‘I did.’_

She can’t help the smile on her lips at that point, when reminiscing about the _start_ of it all. She could lie and say that her fingers don’t trace over his face through the screen, how the tears are only welling up because they’re talking about sad things and not because she _misses_ him way too much. She could lie, but she doesn’t see the point anymore.

_‘Do you ever regret us?’_

_‘_ God _no, not once.’_ A pause. _‘You were the best thing that ever happened to me.’_ Cue to the shot of him with the softest smile on his face.

_‘That’s good to hear.’_

_‘Do you?’_

And she swears she feels the suspense build up just as much as she felt it that first time, then:

_‘Never.’_

And _boy_ does relief flow through her.

But the video ends and she’s right back at the start but with more confusion and an emptier bottle of alcohol. So, in her tipsy head, the only possible solution would be to empty the bottle even more.

Who knew one person could make so many bad decisions in such a short period of time?

-/-

It’s a knock on the door that startles her awake.

She must’ve fallen asleep somewhere at the halfway mark of her drinking mission, and now she’s very much regretting her decision because now she’d have to stay overnight here, the drive from Long Island back to Brooklyn isn’t the shortest of journeys, especially not when drunk off her ass.

 _“Hello?”_ a voice calls out and _right_.

“Just a minute!”

She’s struggling to regain her sense of self as she tries to gracefully get up, but with a bottle of champagne in her hand, manoeuvring out of a reasonably large and extremely frictionless bathtub isn’t quite as easy, especially when halfway drunk. The glass clanks against the tub, the sound ringing and that’s probably what earns the:

_“Are you alright in there?”_

“I’m- just one—“

But the door opens anyway and she’s ready to throttle whoever it is ( _if_ she ever manages to get out of the god forsaken tub), right when she’s awkwardly balancing a bottle in one hand, her phone and purse clamped to her side and a growing headache as she’s just about half getting out.

“ _Hey—“_

But the scolding stops abruptly when she sees who’s at the door, especially when said person isn’t at all who she’d be _ever_ expecting.

_Killian._

_“Killian?”_

While she doesn’t have the best tolerance for alcohol, she wasn’t exactly a lightweight, so _this_ could not be something her drunken mind had whipped up, which leaves her with _zero_ explanation.

But he only rushes to her, straightening her out and taking the bottle from her hand, and now she’s just standing staring at him.

“What’re you-?”

He shrugs, “I was in the neighbourhood.”

She eyes him up and down. Hair neatly gelled and dressed in a plain white button up paired with a loosening navy tie, it’s far too much a coincidence that he’d happened to match with the white/blue theme Aunt Gerda had enforced.

“You live in New York.”

“We’re still _in_ New York.”

“ _New York, New York,”_ she amends- well, more like she deadpans.

“I had business here and decided to drop by and it just so happened—“

“ _Killian_.”

“Your mom invited me,” he finally says, grimacing at his admission, as though she’s caught him when he wasn’t really making it too hard to find out.

“And you came? Drove an hour and a half to get here? Just because my mom invited you?”

“ _Actually_ ,” he holds a finger up in the way he does when he wants to correct something, but with a raised eyebrow from her, he drops it back down, though still murmuring that it was _‘only an hour and ten minutes’_.

She stares at him expectantly, waiting for his answer when he finally says, “Yeah, I did come because your mom invited me,” but he pauses, eyes darting up and down when he adds, “and because I wanted to see you.”

He tries to play it off casually, shrugging with a nonchalance he doesn’t manage to achieve.

“I don’t really want to head out yet,” Emma admits.

He considers her for a moment, as though weighing out the possible outcomes when he says, “There any space for two in there?”

-/-

“- and Scarlet’s still as much of an idiot as he was before – _that_ hasn’t changed.”

“Still getting arrested every second Thursday of the month?”

“You bet,” he says, taking another long swig from the bottle before offering it to her.

They’re leaning on each end of the tub, with the tap the middle point between them, their legs entwine, knees bumping against the other’s because apparently the structure wasn’t quite made for two full-grown sized people.

He smiles at her softly, one that she returns so easily, but it fades as quickly as it appeared. “How’s- uh, how’s Dave?” he asks cautiously, almost as though he were scared to even bring it up.

She takes the bottle from him, eyeing him oddly, she asks, “Didn’t catch him out there?”

He shakes his head, “Think your brother’s still avoiding me – we haven’t really been on good terms since- _you know_.”

She _does_ know.

“ _Right.”_ She pauses, and because she just _had_ to, she adds, “I told him it wasn’t your fault – I don’t know why he still doesn’t—“

“You’re his little sister,” Killian reasons with a shrug, “He’s going to be on your side, no matter what.”

“But you were his best frien—“

“And you’re his little sister.”

And as right as he is, she really does wish David wouldn’t take their breakup out on Killian, not when he was nowhere near to blame. If he should alienate anyone, it should be her.

“And anyway, once he moved to Queens and all – couldn’t really keep in touch,” Killian shrugs. “You know, with a kid and job and all.”

“It still doesn’t give him the right to—“

“Can we talk about something else?” he snaps, cutting her off. But when she flinches at his abrupt change in tone, his eyes drop down, looking anywhere but at her, his hand moving up to massage at his temples. “I’m sorry- I just- It still sucks to talk about it.”

That’s one thing they can agree about. She wonders how long it’ll take for it to be _okay_ to talk about, and then she wonders if she even wants to ever get there. Being _okay_ with it would be moving on from him, and she’s not even sure if she _wants_ to get over him. She doesn’t want him to just be _the one that got away_ , she wants him to stay.

Then again, she didn’t exactly make the staying up to him, not when it was she who up and ran.

“Two years and still? _Get a grip, Jones,”_ Emma teases, a soft tick to her lips that when his eyes rise back up, he mirrors.

“Like you’re any better,” he throws back at her, “Hiding out here in a bathtub?”

“ _Hey_ , those kids were _brutal_ , okay?” she defends, earning an eye roll from him.

And with a poke of his toes to her thigh, “Those kids are angels, Swan – I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That’s because they love you.”

“I’m lovable,” he shrugs.

She lets out an airy laugh, a soft shake to her head when she finally pushes herself up. “Talking about the kids – we better return to the living.”

“Aye,” he nods, “Was supposed to do that ‘bout-“ he checks his watch, “a half hour ago.”

“Come on,” she nods, holding her hand out.

And with one look, he takes her hand in his, using the leverage to pull himself up, and _right_ into her face.

Well not _exactly_. They’re nose to nose by the time he’s upright, though neither of them flinch the slightest. She watches as his eyes flit all over her face, darting up and down her features, scanning from her mouth to her eyes, but before she can make one more bad decision, she-

_Fuck that._

She pushes up on her toes and leans into his mouth, and in less than a fraction of a second, he’s pushing back, lips moving furiously against hers. He drops the empty bottle, landing with a deafening clanking against the acrylic of the tub for his hand to rise up to hold at the nape of her neck. Tugging at his shirt, she pulls him all the more closer, chest to chest, she craves his touch. Her lips part and her tongue slides against his, and since when was it allowed for _someone_ to feel so much like _home_?

“ _Killian_ ,” she sighs as they part, foreheads touching, she presses a short kiss to his lips once more. But then she’s brought back to herself, she remembers that this isn’t two years ago, that she still broke his heart once upon a time, that she— She shakes her head. “This was a m—“

 _Mistake,_ she means to say.

But she doesn’t- not really.

“ _No_ , it wasn’t,” she amends at just about the same time he cuts in with, “It’s _not_ , though.”

And apparently they’re both as shocked at the other’s reactions, but both their furrowed brows disappear when their lips curve up into soft smiles.

“Good,” he says, hand dropping from her hair to entwine her fingers with his. “Now,” he grins, bringing their hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of hers, “I best get you back out there.”

-/-

Apparently, Killian had decided to show her up by bringing the kids toys, and if he wasn’t already the favourite, he sure was now. They circle around him, showing him how the train set he’d gotten for Katie works while Emma watches from the hallway with both Elsa and Mary Margaret by her sides.

“Does this mean you guys are back together?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, “It shouldn’t – not when I’m drunk off half of the champagne I’d bought for your sister and her husband. But we’ll talk,” Emma adds, “I promised him that.”

She excuses herself from the girls, making her way towards where he plays with her niece and nephews. He looks up at her when her hand touches his shoulder, bright grin shining up at her. “Sorry to ruin the fun, kiddos, but Uncle Killy has to go back now.”

There’s a collective _Aww_ that’s groans from the kids, that and a very loud _Boo!_ from Anna from where she’s mingling across the room. “Can’t he stay a lil while longer?” Leo asks, and if she were a weaker woman, his puppy dog eyes would’ve worked.

“Afraid not,” Killian answers, pushing himself up on his feet, “I’ve got work tomorrow and a _loooong_ drive back,” he emphasises.

“But it’ll be so long till we see him again!” Katie complains with the biggest frown on her face.

And that’s when Killian looks to her, an eyebrow raised as to how he should respond. So, instead, she does it for him.

Crouching down to Katie’s level, she says, “I _promise_ you, I’ll bring him back sooner than you know, okay?” Then she holds out her pinkie for the girl to do the same, hooking their little fingers together.

That seems to convince her enough, the two boys following her lead when she nods in agreement.

Once he says his goodbyes, and once David finally sees it’s okay to start talking to Killian again, she walks him out.

“ _So,_ ” he starts, rocking on his heels as his hands are pushed into his pockets. “I’ll be back, huh?”

“Yeah, well I offered Anna and Kris your babysitting services for whenever they need a date night,” Emma says, trying for serious, but when he raises a brow, she can only bite down her smile.

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” he shrugs, and a smile breaks out on her lips.

“You sure you can drive back?”

“Yeah, I’m good – I’m not a lightweight,” Killian teases. “I could drive you back if you wanted? Brooklyn’s just on the way from mine.”

And she considers it, but letting him drive her home would mean an hour’s ride in a car, followed by – _lets_ _be_ _real_ – her inviting him in and we all know where that’ll lead to.

“No,” she refuses, but adds when his face drops, “I swear I’m not avoiding you – we’ll _have_ that talk. I just haven’t seen my family in awhile, and I spent most of today hiding out, but _now_ \- now I’m feeling way better-“ ( _the ‘thanks to you’ remains unspoken, but understood_ ) “-I think I can actually face them. I’ll sleep over at my mom’s – I think she’ll like that.”

And with a small smile, he nods, “Alright, love,” Killian says before he moves to press a kiss to her cheek, the soft stubble brushing against her skin as she leans into it. Then retreating away, down the porch and towards his car, he turns back one more time, “I’ll call,” he promises.

“If you won’t, I will,” she calls back, earning a grin from him as he slides into the car.

Then with one final wave, he drives off, his rear lights fading into the street.

Though for the first time, she knows the goodbye isn’t forever.

-/-

(So now, if she’d have to categorise herself again, she guesses she’d be in the _post- post-Killian_ phase, or _Killian 2.0_ , which she can be extremely sure is the last phase she ever wants to be in.)


End file.
